


Future Emperor

by katambrosius



Series: Omovember 2017 [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Pee, omovember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 17:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12611292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katambrosius/pseuds/katambrosius
Summary: Omovember Day 3After being rescued from Kvatch, Martin finds himself with a bit of a problem.





	Future Emperor

Martin glanced between his rescuer and the trees to either side of the path. If she weren’t there, it would be a simple matter of ducking off the the side and hoisting up his robes to- but she was there. Not that he wasn’t grateful, not at all. All hope had seemed lost at Kvatch until she’d turned up. He was grateful. He just really needed to relieve himself, and her being there made that a little difficult. 

He was so distracted, trying to work out what to do, that he didn’t notice the dip in the road, and stumbled quite spectacularly. He caught himself with a gasp, one hand bracing himself against the horse that walked between he and his companion, and the other flying to his crotch as his bladder gave a sharp throb. He gave himself a hard squeeze, walking awkwardly as he waited for the wave to pass. He was thankful there was no wet patch. Yet. Martin prayed to Akatosh for endurance. 

Unfortunately, he noticed as he straightened, his rescuer had noticed something was off, and was looking at him curiously. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with genuine concern. 

“I’m fine, I just tripped.” Martin was proud that his voice didn’t waver too much, but he knew time was running out. 

This was so ridiculous. Of course they would have to stop for their bodily needs, and it would be easier for him than for her. Martin felt his cheeks start to heat, and he pushed those thoughts away. He had enough to worry about. As if agreeing with him, his bladder sent another wave of desperation, pounding relentlessly inside him. His hand gripped himself tightly, and he knew that any leak would show immediately on his robes. 

He tried to keep walking, but he couldn’t. His steps faltered until he’d fallen behind, and he shuffled in place, vainly trying to keep moving forward. The result was an embarrassing little dance, one that he’d seen little boys do when they couldn’t hold much longer, one he’d probably done as a little boy himself. Both his hands were shoved between his legs, and he was hopping from foot to foot when his companion stopped turned to look at him. 

Martin turned his head away, humiliated. This woman was the Hero of Kvatch, she’d walked into the realm of Oblivion, and now she was watching as her future Emperor struggled to keep hold of his dignity. Well, he didn’t really have much of that left now. He might as well just give up entirely. Before he could let his straining muscles relax, though, she shook her head with a soft smile, like a mother might give an apologetic child. 

“Off to the trees with you,” she said, tutting slightly at the end. “I’ll stand guard.” She moved the horse to the side of the road, drawing her sword and facing ahead. Away from him. With a gulp, and another firm squeeze, Martin hobbled off into the green. As soon as he was out of sight, he rushed to lift up his robe and free himself from-

“Aaahhh…” Martin let out a soft gush of air as heat spread through the fabric of his underclothes. Barely remembering to hold the fabric of his robe away from the spreading liquid, Merlin held out a hand to brace himself against the tree. His eyes fluttered closed as urine streamed down his legs, spreading out into little rivulets that curled around him like an embrace. He panted slowly as his muscles finally relaxed, and he was overcome with relief. 

Martin stood long after he finished, and it was only when he heard his companion calling his name that he realised with sudden panic just how _wet_ he was. Glancing around, as if the trees would offer him a solution, he thought frantically, but try as he might, he couldn’t think of a solution other than the obvious. 

“Just a moment,” he called, only just loud enough to be heard. Who knew how many bandits were in these parts? Or worse… Acting quickly, he stripped off his underclothes. Sparing a moment to look at them, grey fabric soaked with yellow, he tossed them into a shrub. Maybe he could save them… if they weren’t out in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t exactly going to carry them to Weynon Priory in his hands. Grabbing a fist full of the long grass to his left, he rubbed himself as dry as possible. 

He would have to make do wearing nothing beneath his robe. At least until he got somewhere he could buy fresh clothes. He didn’t have any money, but perhaps… He would not ask, not yet. It would be too humiliating to admit, but he would find an opportunity for new clothes soon. He was going to be the Emperor of Cyrodiil, he wouldn’t be wearing priests robes forever. He would just have to wait. 

Hopefully he’d do a better job this time around.

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Relieving themselves in the woods


End file.
